


"forgive me if my hands tremble."

by ej (mirandabeach)



Series: dialogue, noun [3]
Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club, Hidden Block (Video Blogging RPF), Normal Boots
Genre: Basically, M/M, Poetry, Unpopular Pairing July, brb driving myself off a cliff and straight into hell, tfw ur ship is so unpopular the only people who ship it are you and ur friend, we a hot mess, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirandabeach/pseuds/ej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His body was like a work of art.<br/>His nose, his jaw, his mouth. All sculpted by the gods’ hands themselves, gracing the world with a beauty rivaling masterpieces by Maderno and Giorgione, Da Vinci and Michelangelo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"forgive me if my hands tremble."

**Author's Note:**

> based on this tumblr post - "forgive me if my hands tremble. you are the most beautiful thing i have ever touched." http://sleepysuggestions.tumblr.com/post/144881704850/forgive-me-if-my-hands-tremble-you-are-the-most

His body was like a work of art.

His nose, his jaw, his mouth. All sculpted by the gods’ hands themselves, gracing the world with a beauty rivaling masterpieces by Maderno and Giorgione, Da Vinci and Michelangelo. His olive skin is deep, showing generations of time spent dancing with the sun. It frames his smile like a family photograph.

His shoulders, his chest. Strong and solid, under Luke’s touch, under the weight of the world falling heavy upon them. He envied their foundation, though he knew it wasn’t without weaknesses. He massaged them daily, working out the knots of worry and stress from the essence of his spirit.

His arms, his hands. Light scars from his innocence, a different color to show a permanent reminder of days long gone by. He carried them like a book of hymns, with a smile and with pride. Luke loved to kiss each one, hoping to soak up the memory.

His legs. They carry so much, travel so far. Have taken him through his life and ultimately led him here.

His eyes. Blue, like the hydrangea. Like the water near the beaches they grew up by, like the sky after a thundershower. The deepest, most honest blue now find time to grace him with their presence.

Luke trembles.

“I’m sorry, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched.”

The blue begins to glow. His arms begin to shake against Luke’s shoulders. His chest heaves, his olive skin grows brighter.

His lips turn up in a smile.


End file.
